


Lessons

by ferggirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Maos Hiatus Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you know Simmons publicly accused Coulson of sleeping with multiple prostitutes?"</p>
<p>Post-ep to TRACKS, focused on Jemma's second undercover attempt. (Written for MAOS Hiatus Hug.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

He forgets, in the aftermath of Skye’s shooting, to say anything. An agent over-planning her alias just isn’t as important as the one fighting for her life. He needs her at her best, Coulson reasons, and critiquing her for her excessive effort won’t do anything but weigh her down.

But he can’t help mentioning it to May over a stack of paperwork. 

"These reports are in order," he agrees, signing each page as she watches. "Simmons is ridiculously thorough, which I almost always appreciate."

"Almost always?" May’s mouth turns up at the corner. She knows him well enough to sense the story he’s got to tell. 

******

They’re professionals. The last thing either one would let happen is awkwardness. 

So even when they stop sharing a bed, they keep meeting up for drinks without the rest of the team. One specialist to another. 

Ward seems a bit lost to her. He’s still angry at Coulson for the secrets that drove Skye into the building alone, and at himself for somehow failing her as an SO. 

Their last several meetings have been mostly silence. Today May decides to share a story. 

"Did you know Simmons publicly accused Coulson of sleeping with multiple prostitutes?"

He spits a little bit of whiskey back into the glass before he catches on. “Undercover? Their comms were off - I never heard how that went.”

She smirks, glad to see the interest animate his face, and tells him. 

******

Grant knows the story was supposed to be funny. A lighthearted moment to gently poke fun at their over-eager scientist’s attempts at backstopping. 

But three days later, he can’t stop thinking about it. He knows what drives an agent to over-prepare.

Fear. 

He doesn’t like to think of Jemma Simmons being afraid. Not when he can do something about it.

So on day four, he sits down next to her at lunch. She’s alone, eating a sandwich quietly while she reads a scientific paper of some kind. Fitz is feverishly working on duplicating the dendrotoxin grenades and hasn’t come out of the lab all day, but that’s not Ward’s concern. He’s seen Fitz in action, and the engineer has a surprising knack for undercover.

His own microwaved meal steams and he eats in silence, patiently waiting for her to notice he’s there. She only looks up when his elbow brushes hers.

"Every other seat is open," she says finally, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Is there a reason you’ve chosen to sit just there, Agent Ward?"

He finishes the bite he’s just taken, chewing thoughtfully before looking over at her. 

"With everything that… happened," he starts slowly, noting the way her hand tightens around her article, her knuckles whitening, "I never got to debrief you. After Italy."

She looks baffled. “Why on earth would you feel the need to debrief me?”

He takes another bite and considers his words. The woman to his right is leaps and bounds more intelligent than he is, capable of solving complex scientific problems and crushing him at Scrabble. Simultaneously. 

"You never passed your field test," he says. 

Her face crumples for a moment, and he feels cruel for reminding her. She stands, offended. 

"If Agent Coulson has a problem with my work-"

He’s already made a mess of this. He stands as well, reaching a gentle hand out to keep her in place.

"No, no, wait. That’s not what I meant."

When she turns back to face him, his hand falls away. "What was your point, then?" She looks tired, and haunted and hurt and unsure. 

"I heard you did excellent work building your alias," he says. Her eyes light up. "Tell me."

She sits back down. 

He’s impressed by her frankly astounding attention to detail, her enthusiasm, and the way each decision is still fresh in her mind. He lets her talk, lets her explain about the imaginary vacations and marital troubles and even prostitutes.

She’s finishing her story when the first question occurs to her. 

"Agent Coulson seemed to think that multiple prostitutes was excessive. I was aiming for maximum dramatic impact, but perhaps I overshot the mark?"

It’s an opening. He tells her about his first attempt at an alias. 

(He’d stayed up all night, written fifteen pages. The professor had handed it back the next class with a big red “0” at the top. On page 12, he’d contradicted himself, forgotten whether he had a sister or a brother. He’d argued for partial credit but she’d shaken her head. “Can’t get partial credit for being dead.”)

He doesn’t have to draw the parallels. 

"Oh god, so over preparing was just as dangerous as my terrible attempts at lying on the fly." She drops her head into her hands. “I'm never leaving the Bus again, am I?"

He hesitates for a moment, torn between a few terrible options, finally settling for an awkward pat on the back. 

"There is one resource you didn’t use last time," he says when she picks up her head. 

She gives him a blank look. 

"Me."

******

It’s something to do, while they wait. She’s got work (Skye’s test results keep coming back way out of normal ranges, and Coulson demands daily reports with as many theories as possible) and so does he (he and May are developing a strategy to deal with a rogue Mike Peterson). But they’re not flying around the globe, and the days seem longer without the rush of the next mission and Skye’s chatter to fill the rooms. 

So lessons in spycraft are a way to pass the time. 

Jemma - because it’s Jemma now, you can’t spend three hours poring over a PhD-student-paying-her-way-as-a-stripper alias without moving to first names - is a challenging student.

She accepts nothing he says as fact, which is wildly irritating until he realizes that she simply requires proof of the statement. 

He does his own research. Old case files, de-classified missions, tales from the grapevine about Romanoff or Barton. He prepares himself so he’ll have the data she needs to believe him. 

Fitz takes a break from his grenades to drop in, occasionally. Jemma always uses those instances as an opportunity to test her latest attempt at an alias. Her best friend is quick to poke holes in them, but with Grant as a safety net, her enthusiasm for improvement is endless. 

May comes by less often, but when she does Grant has her propose scenarios. Most of them aren’t hypotheticals at all, but missions she’s successfully navigated. She seems to approve of the idea, and suggests they add some physical training to the scientists’ regimen. 

Grant’s reluctant, and it surprises him. It’s a good idea. 

But he doesn’t want to lose this time with Jemma. 

It’s become the highlight of his day. Her brilliant questions and silly fake names. Her bright smile and quick repartee. 

_She’s_  the highlight of his day.

But he’s a professional, so he agrees. And if May raises an eyebrow when he suggests she train Fitz while he trains Jemma, Grant pretends not to notice. He’s already planning his new lessons.

He’ll start Jemma with some hand-to-hand. 


End file.
